


The Wedding Date

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CS fake!dating AU. Emma Swan is tired of her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret Nolan's constant matchmaking attempts. With Mary Margaret's sister, Regina's wedding coming up in a week, Emma resorts to desperate measures to hold Mary Margaret at bay: she decides to fake a boyfriend, mentioning the first name that comes to mind, Killian Jones. Only problem? She can't stand him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Wedding Date—pt. 1

_A/N:  This story was originally posted as chapters 20, 21, 23 and 24 of my story collection “Fluffy Fridays”.  It got really long, and kind of took on a life of its own, so I decided it deserved a chance to be a story in its own right. Enjoy!_

Emma took a deep, fortifying breath as she pulled open the heavy station doors.  She felt more like a death-row inmate than the sheriff of the small, coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine.

How did she get herself into these kinds of situations?

Mary Margaret, that’s how.

She loved her sister-in-law, don’t get her wrong, but when Mary Margaret Nolan got an idea into her head, there was no reasoning with her, no stopping her, and the idea that had been in Mary Martaret’s head ever since she’d married Emma’s foster brother, David, was that Emma needed to find a true love of her own.

Love was great…for other people like Mary Margaret and David, but Emma had tried the whole “falling in love” thing about a decade ago, and that one, terrible experience had taught her that she never wanted to go through the kind of pain Neal Cassidy put her through ever again.

But trying to convince Mary Margaret of that fact was like trying to reason with an excited toddler.  “No” simply wasn’t in her vocabulary.  It seemed like every time Emma went to visit the Nolans in their cute, homey little cottage in the little town of Misthaven, Mary Margaret had a new man, a new “friend of a friend” that she wanted to set Emma up with.

The last one, Walsh, was an utter nightmare.  He had this weird obsession with monkeys, even going so far as to insist he had simian DNA running through his veins.  Suffice it to say, he was more than a little bananas.

Anyway, Emma had vowed then and there that she’d never subject herself to Mary Margaret’s matchmaking schemes again, and _that’s_ how she found herself in her current predicament.

Mary Margaret’s sister, Regina Mills had finally found the love of her life in the widower Robin Locksley, and the couple planned to marry in a little more than a week.  Robin and his adorable little son had softened Regina’s prickly heart to such an extent that she was barely recognizable.  That, combined with the fact that Regina’s love life took Mary Margaret’s focus off of Emma, made Robin Emma’s new favorite person for several months running.

But with this morning’s phone call from Mary Margaret, Emma’s reprieve from the matchmaking had come to an abrupt end.

“Oh Emma!” Mary Margaret enthused, “your bridesmaid’s dress _finally_ came in, and it’s _gorgeous_!”

Emma pictured the formal, red ball gown in her mind and smiled to herself.  Gorgeous indeed!  She’d spend the whole night feeling like a princess suddenly attending her first ball—a princess who could barely breathe in her tight, corseted bodice, but a princess nonetheless.  “Great!  Looking forward to seeing everyone next weekend.  The wedding’s bound to be a blast, if there’s one thing I know about Regina—and particularly her wedding planner, Ruby Lucas, it’s that she knows how to throw a good party.”

“That she does,” Mary Margaret said with a laugh.  “Knowing Regina, if this wedding is _the_ social event of the year, heads will roll.”

“Probably.”  Emma was still amazed Regina had chosen her as one of her bridesmaids.  The two of them had clashed since the moment they met at David and Mary Margaret’s wedding four years ago.  Though the ice had thawed a bit, Emma didn’t think she and Regina would ever be friends—certainly not “ask each other to be in our respective weddings” friends.  Still, it was an honor to be chosen.

“There was _one_ other teensy, tiny reason I called, Emma,” Mary Margaret said slowly, cautiously.  Emma scowled, immediately on guard.  She _knew_ that tone of voice, and it _never_ boded well.

“Okay,” she said slowly.  “What’s that?”

“Well, the thing is,” Mary Margaret said, “it took me _forever_ to get Regina to agree to do all the traditional wedding reception stuff—you know, kiss when people clink their glasses, have a first dance, all of that.  Despite it being _their wedding_ , Regina was insistent that her and Robin’s private romantic moments were not to be on display to the whole town.  I finally came up with a solution that she found acceptable…but it might be really…awkward…unless you have a date.”

Emma groaned inwardly.  She should have _known_ this was coming!’

“You know,” Mary Margaret continued, “Robin has this friend…well not really a friend, more of a frenemy.  Name’s…. _something_ …Nottingham.  Maybe he could be your…”

“NO!”  Emma said quickly, emphatically.  Why hadn’t she anticipated this?  A wedding was about as couple-y of an event as there was.  Of _course_ Mary Margaret would use the wedding to kick off the latest “find Emma a man” campaign.

“Now Emma,” Mary Margaret said in her best school-teacher tone, “there’s no need to be so adamant.  I admit, Walsh wasn’t…my best idea ever, but you could at least give Nottingham a chance.”

Emma blew out a frustrated breath.  How was she going to get out of this without hurting her sister-in-law’s feelings?  Well there was one way, but it was absolutely crazy…

“It’s just…it’s just that I don’t _need_ your help finding a man.  I…kind of have a boyfriend.”

Mary Margaret squealed and dropped the phone as she clapped in delight.  “WHAT?!  You have a _boyfriend_?  Why didn’t you _tell_ me?  Who is he?  What’s his name?”

Emma panicked.  She hadn’t thought this out nearly carefully enough.  She said the first name that popped into her head.  “Killian.  His name is Killian Jones.”

And _that_ was precisely how she found herself in her current predicament. 

She groaned as she shed her coat and took a sip of the strong, black coffee she’d picked up on the way to the station.  What had she been _thinking_?  Of all the men she could have named, why had she named _Killian_ as her fake boyfriend?  The man had been a _constant_ pain in the ass ever since she’d taken office.  More times than not, when she got called out to an incident, he was at the center of it.  It was never anything major with him, just the ever-present nuisance offences—drunk and disorderly conduct, disturbing the peace, the occasional break-in—where the idiot didn’t even _take_ anything.  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Killian Jones was constantly just messing with her.

And if all of _that_ wasn’t bad enough, Killian was hot as hell with his longish, messy coal black hair and his startlingly blue eyes.  He was hot—and well he knew it, barely able to string two sentences together without an innuendo, constantly invading her space each time she let him out of his cell after a stint of his normal mischief, calling her “love” in that sexy, sultry British accent of his.  He was a menace to society.  The female half at the very least.

And she had to find a way to ask him to be her fake boyfriend.  How did she get herself _into_ these kinds of situations?!

At least she wouldn’t have to go looking for him.  He currently sat in one of her jail cells, and from the sound of it, he wasn’t enjoying the amenities…or the company.

“Shut it, Scarlet,” Killian groused, throwing a glare at the man in the other cell.  “A man can’t bloody hear himself _think_ above your constant yammering.”

“I’ll talk if I bloody wanna talk Jones,” Will Scarlet shot back.  “It’s a free country, innit?  I can do what I please.  Say, whatcha in for anyway?”

“I got drunk and broke into a library,” Killian muttered.

“What’s that?” Will asked, stepping up to the bars that separated their cells.  “I musta heard wrong, mate.  Did you say you _broke into a bloody library_?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re mental, you are,” Will said with a shake of the head.  “Breaking into a library!  Why’d ya wanna do that?  ‘S just full of a bunch of _books_.”

“That’s my business,” Killian snapped, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your mouth.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll bloody well come over and make you!”

Emma decided it was definitely time to intervene.  “Alright, alright guys.  Nobody’s going to make anyone do anything.  Just calm down.”

Killian’s whole demeanor changed when he saw her.  His eyes lit up, his mouth settled into its usual flirtatious smirk, and he sauntered in her general direction.  “Well Swan, I see you’ve decided to grace us with your company.  I knew you couldn’t stay away from my devilishly handsome self for long.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “It’s ‘Sheriff Swan’ to you, and of _course_ I’m here.  It is, after all, where I work.”

“Come now, love,” he said, leaning a hip casually against the prison bars, “admit it.  Admit you felt your heart leap at the thought of spending the day with me.”

She grinned in spite of herself.  “I’ll admit I felt _something_ , but I don’t think it was my heart leaping.  Maybe something more along the lines of nausea…”

Killian put a hand to his chest.  “You wound me, Swan.”

“Not nearly as much as I could if I wanted to, Jones.”

“Oh, love, you have no idea how much I’d enjoy that.”

“Oh bloody hell!” Will groused, collapsing onto his cot and dropping his head into his hands, “bad enough I have to put up with this bloke all night long.  I have to watch you two flirt as well?  Just make out already and clear the air!”

Emma felt her face flame.  This day was going from bad to worse.  The last thing she needed was an audience for the little conversation she was about to have.  Fumbling with her keys, she unlocked Killian’s door and gestured him out.

“Yeah, a make-out session is _so_ not going to happen.  I do, however, have a few questions for Mr. Jones that might be best asked in the interrogation room.  As for you, Scarlet…shut up and keep your crazy ideas to yourself.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian followed Emma from the room, his curiosity piqued.  If he didn’t miss his guess, and he rarely did with Emma, she had a lot more on her mind than questions about last night’s drunken escapade.

The fact was, Sheriff Emma Swan was an open book to him, and one he knew he’d never tire of reading.  She hadn’t been in town a day before he realized he was utterly smitten with her.  She’d built her walls high and rarely let anyone scale them, but he could see the strong, amazing woman that resided beneath the prickly but beautiful exterior.

He wanted to know her, really _know_ her, to lose himself in the emerald depths of her eyes, to spend his days with her and hold her through the ensuing nights.  He wanted it all.

But she wasn’t ready for any of it.  He’d attempted a sincere conversation with her once, but she’d swiftly and completely shut him down.  Since then, he’d contented himself with harmless flirtation and ever present innuendo.  She may roll her eyes at him, but his nonsense never failed to elicit a blush or a begrudging grin.

She wasn’t immune to him by any stretch.  There was something brewing between them, something strong and powerful.  One day she’d lower her walls and allow him past.  Until that day, he must bide his time.  He loved a challenge. He was a patient man, and he was in this for the long haul.

Emma ushered him into the interrogation room and shut the door behind them.  “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Killian did as she asked, and watched as she began to pace.  She was nervous; that was plain to see.  Whatever it was that was on her mind, it clearly went beyond his picked lock and literary malfeasance.  He’d best find a way to put her at ease before she gave herself an ulcer.

Getting to his feet, he sauntered over to her, not stopping until he was close enough to feel her breath on his face.  “You know, Swan, you don’t need to use my arrest as an excuse to get close to me; you need only ask.”

She stuck her hands in her back pockets and swayed into him for the barest of moments before rolling her eyes and pushing him gently away.

“Yeah, because your criminal behavior had _nothing_ to do with it,” she said, a smile in her voice.  Suddenly her eyes shifted and she shied away like a nervous filly.  “Would you just go sit down like I told you to?  I have something I need to ask you, and I didn’t want to have an audience.”

Killian’s curiosity spiked even more.  He took his seat and peered up at her as she paced in evident agitation.  “Very well, Swan.  Ask away.”

She shot him a quick glance, and then looked away.  “Now, don’t get the wrong idea about this.  It doesn’t mean _anything_.  I was just…put on the spot, and yours was the first name that came to me.  It means _nothing_.”

Killian grinned and leaned back in his far-from-comfortable chair.  “I shall endeavor to keep that in mind.”

“It’s just…” she began, once again beginning to pace, “my sister-in-law’s sister is getting married next weekend, and she wanted to use that as an opportunity to matchmake…and…I kind of told her I had a boyfriend.  I kind of told her _you_ were my boyfriend.”

Killian’s heart stilled and then raced.  He grinned up at her—not his normal teasing leer, but a sincere smile.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped.  “I told you not to read anything into it!”

Killian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.  “I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“You better not.”

“So, am I to understand you wish me to be your date to this wedding?  That’s what you’re asking me?”

“Fake date,” she said vehemently.  “I want you to _pretend_ to be my boyfriend.  Just for one weekend.  Then we go back to you committing misdemeanors every other day and me arresting you.”

“And when your sister-in-law learns of the sham?”

“No reason she ever needs to know,” Emma said with a shrug.  “Couples break up all the time.  We’ll just say things didn’t work out; we decided to go our separate ways.  That’s life, you know?”

Killian saw decades of heartbreak and abandonment in the shrug of her shoulders, the pain in her eyes that she tried desperately to mask behind a nonchalant exterior.  Killian ached for her, longed to tell her that life didn’t have to be that way, that _he’d_ never let her down, even if everyone else in the world did.

But he held his tongue.  She wasn’t ready for that yet, not nearly.

“Very well, Swan,” he said instead.  “It looks like you’ve got yourself a fake boyfriend for the weekend.  How would you like to seal the deal?  A kiss for your pretend boyfriend, aye?”

She rolled her eyes and grinned.  “Sorry buddy.  I only have _pretend_ kisses for my pretend boyfriends.”

“I shall _pretend_ to savor them and relive them in fondest memory until we meet again.”

_Notes:_

_\-- I thought I’d try my hand at the ever-popular fake-dating AU trope.  I threw in Will Scarlet as a bonus because…why not?  Unfortunately, this got really long, so I was basically only able to give you the set-up before I reached a ridiculous word count._

_\--Up next:  Emma and Killian arrive at the Nolan’s Misthaven cottage and the fake dating ruse begins._


	2. Chapter 2

The Wedding Date—pt. 2

 “We need to get our story straight, Swan,” Killian observed, looking over at the woman in the driver’s seat who was resolutely _not_ looking at him.

“Hm?” she asked idly, keeping her eyes trained on the highway as it sped past.  “What was that?”

“Our story,” Killian said, “you know, how we met; when we started dating; what we like to do on an evening out… _or in.”_

She looked over at him, irritated scowl firmly in place.  “Killian, we _have_ no story.  This is just a _fake_ relationship, remember?”

Killian looked aside.  Aye; he remembered.  He remembered all too well.  He’d best be careful to keep that fact firmly planted in his mind throughout the coming weekend.  It would be all too easy to pretend it was _real_ , that Emma Swan really and truly was his girlfriend, that they had a story, that they were in love

But as she said, it was all a ruse.  He’d do best to remember it before he got his heart broken.

“Aye Swan, so you’ve said,” he answered, his tone determinedly light, flirtatious, “but if you don’t wish your family, and particularly your _sister-in-law_ to learn the truth, we best plan.  Suppose we’re asked about our relationship and we each respond differently.  The jig would be up in one fell swoop.”

She nodded, and returned her eyes to the road.  “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.  So any big ideas?”

“The secret to a successful con, love, is sticking as closely to the truth as possible,” Killian said.  “The less fabrication involved the less likely we are to slip up.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Figures you’d be an expert in con-man tactics.”

He shrugged, one eyebrow raising in amusement.  “It’s a gift.”

She grinned.  “Okay, so we stick close to the truth.  Let me see….we met when I arrested you for one of your bouts of criminal stupidity.”

“Come now, Swan, don’t exaggerate,” he said.  “To the present, my bouts of stupidity have only risen to the level of misdemeanor.”

She chuckled, shaking her head at him.  “Fine.  We met when I was arresting you for a bout of _misdemeanor_ stupidity.  Better?”

He laughed.  He enjoyed this banter with her far more than was good for him.  “Aye, and I subsequently admitted that my criminal tendencies were merely an attempt to get your attention.”

She laughed at that, clearly having no clue how close to the truth his statement was.

“And after you asked me out about fifty times, I finally said yes just to shut you up.”

Killian clutched his chest dramatically.  “You really know how to wound a man, Swan.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Very well,” he said.  “My persistence finally paid off and you agreed to a date.  I swept you off your feet with my expert romancing, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

She looked over at him and grinned.  “It’s as good a cover story as any, I suppose.  So are we ready for our big debut into the world of pulling cons?”

“Nearly.”

“Only nearly?”

“Aye, love,” Killian said with a decisive nod.  “There is still the matter of our level of intimacy.”

She shot him a startled look that turned decidedly suspicious in the blink of an eye.  “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Merely that you currently look at me as though I have the word ‘idiot’ tattooed across my forehead,” Killian said.  “Hardly girlfriendly behavior.  If we are to be believed as a couple in love, we must attempt to portray tender feelings for each other.”

“I guess you do have a point.”

“To wit, we must smile at each other, invade each other’s space, hold hands.  For that matter, the occasional stolen kiss or two wouldn’t be amiss.”

“I’m not going to make out with you in public!” she said in a voice as scandalized as though he’d suggested she attend the wedding in the nude.

He shrugged, giving her the grin he knew riled her up the most.  “Very well, Swan.  We can confine our make out sessions to our moments of privacy.”

She growled and hit her turn signal with a fair amount more force than was strictly necessary.  “Keep dreaming, buddy.”

He sighed.  “Look, Swan, I may tease, but I truly have no nefarious intentions.  The fact is, couples in love give each other little signs of affection.  A quick peck on the lips is hardly remarkable between a boyfriend and girlfriend.  It might, in fact, be remarkable if we didn’t behave in such a fashion.”

She shot him a quick glance before turning away and heaving a quick sigh.  “I guess that makes sense.”

He wondered just how far he could push his luck.  “Perhaps we’d best practice, love.  After all, it might be best if our first attempt wasn’t with an audience.  We need to look like we know what we’re doing.”

She didn’t answer, which Killian took to be all the answer he needed.  Long moments passed in silence before Swan put on her blinker and eased off the highway and into the parking area of a rest stop.  She came to a stop in a remote parking space far from any other vehicles and then turned to him.

“Fine,” she said, steely determination in her voice.  “Let’s practice.”

Killian coughed, and only narrowly avoided spewing the sip of soda he’d taken all over her dashboard.  His heart hammered as he turned startled eyes in her direction.  Was this truly happening?  Was she truly about to let him _kiss_ her?

“So what are you waiting for?” she gritted out.  “Let’s get this over with.”

He nodded, inching closer.  He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and then slide into her silky hair as he moved his mouth ever closer to hers.  Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttered softly closed, and she began moving toward him.

“Emma,” he breathed on a sigh as his lips ghosted across hers.

Abruptly she stiffened, and then jerked away before the kiss could truly get under way.

“Okay,” she said, her voice suspiciously breathless, as she turned the key once more in the ignition and pulled back onto the freeway.  “Looks like we can pull that off if need be.”

Killian gave his head a quick shake.  For a moment, for one quick moment he’d forgotten it was all a con, he’d let himself drown in her and that quick, almost-kiss.  For that one moment there had been only him and her and the need that churned always just below the surface.

Killian had always prided himself on his cat-like ability to adapt to any situation in which he found himself, but this time he was beginning to realize he might be in way over his head.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma had to remind herself to breathe as she finished the drive to David and Mary Margaret’s place.  What the _hell_ had just happened?  That…wasn’t in the plan.  Kisses hadn’t figured into her plans for the weekend.  At all.  And even if they had…kisses shouldn’t be like _that_.  Good grief, it hadn’t even _been_ a kiss, not really.  He’d merely brushed his lips against hers, but it had been enough to make her feel as though fireworks were exploding, bright lights shooting beneath her closed eyelids, the explosion nearly deafening.

What would have happened if she’d let him _actually_ kiss her?  _You’d never have been able to stop_ , her subconscious helpfully supplied.

She was starting to realize she hadn’t remotely thought this plan out.  How was she going to make it through a whole weekend with Killian when he made her feel like _that_?

It should have been simple.  They’d just share a stage kiss when called on to do so; nothing more.  He was, after all, the bane of her existence.  She didn’t even _like_ him; not at all.  True, he did seem to be on his best behavior today, but anyone could have a good day, right?  No doubt he’d wake up tomorrow and be his normal cocky, insufferable self.

This was all a sham; she had to remember that.  No matter how electrifying their “practice kiss” might have been, he was her _fake_ boyfriend.  She _couldn’t_ forget that.  As much as he flirted and threw around the innuendos, he was probably the worst of players.  True, she’d never seen him with a woman; not in any serious romantic capacity anyway, but that didn’t matter.  If she were stupid enough to develop _feelings_ for him…well that could only end in heartbreak.

She’d had enough heartbreak to last her lifetime, thank you very much.  No, it didn’t matter how physically attracted to him she might be, and there was no use denying it to herself after that kiss, it simply _couldn’t_ go beyond him flirting and her rolling her eyes at him.

They arrived at the Nolans’ as the sun was beginning to set.  Their cute little single-story home shown to its greatest advantage set against the sunset

“Your brother and sister-in-law have a lovely home, Swan,” Killian commented after stepping from the car and taking a good look.  “Must be quite peaceful this far into the country.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, closing her own door.  “David’s always thought if he wasn’t a deputy he’d like to be a shepherd.  This home kind of gives him the best of both worlds.”

Killian reached out and took her hand, deftly lacing their fingers together, and Emma shot him a startled look as the butterflies started dancing in her stomach at his touch.

“Come now love,” Killian said with a teasing grin.  “We’re dating.  Holding hands is rather a requirement.”

She wanted to remind him once again of the fake nature of their relationship, but somehow she doubted she could form coherent sentences.  She had to get it together and fast. 

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and then nodded, pasting on a serene smile.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Ready to meet the family?”

“Absolutely,” he said, returning her smile and gesturing toward the door with his free hand.  “Shall we?”

She nodded and began walking down the flower-lined path, but they hadn’t made it ten steps before Mary Margaret burst from the door and enveloped Emma in a hug, David not far behind.

“Oh Emma!  You made it!  Perfect timing, I’ve got a pot of soup on the stove and the bread’s about to come out of the oven,” Mary Margaret said without taking a breath.  “And you must be Killian!  You have no idea how happy I am to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Killian said nodding and offering her a hand, which she enveloped in both of hers.

David had been slightly less effusive in his greeting, giving Killian an assessing big-brotherly look.  Emma sincerely hoped her brother wasn’t about to launch into one of his patented “if you hurt my sister I will make your life a living hell” speeches.

As it turned out, she needn’t have worried.  David shot Killian one, quick suspicious look, and then gave him the nod of approval and a hearty handshake.  “Here, let me give you a hand with your bags.”

“Much appreciated mate.”

Mary Margaret pulled Emma into her kitchen while the men saw to the luggage.  As soon as they were alone she pounced.  “Oh, Emma, he’s so _handsome_.  Why didn’t you tell me how hot he is?  And such a gentleman too.”

Emma grinned.  “Careful, don’t let my brother hear you drooling over another man like that.”

Mary Margaret chuckled.  “I’m not _drooling_.  Just stating a fact.  And you are going to have to tell me absolutely _everything_ about you guys!  You know, after you told me about him, I could have sworn the name ‘Killian’ rang a bell, and then it came to me!  Isn’t Killian the man you used to always complain about?  The one you said you were always arresting?”

 _Oh…_ She’d forgotten about how much she used to vent to Mary Margaret about her “boyfriend”.  Well this could get really awkward really fast.

“Yeah; that’s Killian alright,” Emma said, forcing a laugh.

“ _How_ on earth did you ever get together?” Mary Margaret asked, taking a seat on a barstool and evidently settling in for a serious round of girl talk.

“She was finally able to see my merits beneath my rough exterior,” Killian supplied, stopping to place a quick kiss against Emma’s cheek as he settled into the chair beside her.  Instinctively, Emma reached up to touch the place his lips had landed.  “Some men might have taken her silence and disapproval as off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

“Must be why you insisted on being such a big pain in the ass when we first met,” Emma said with a smirk.  “You just wanted to give me a challenge too?”

Killian laughed.  “I admit, I was a bit of a prat; acting out in such outrageous ways to begin, but it did work out quite well for me in the end.”

“Sounds like quite the story,” David said settling into a chair beside Killian.  “How exactly _did_ you win her over?”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The evening went surprisingly well.  Within an hour of their arrival Killian and David seemed to adopt each other as best mates and honorary brothers, and the four of them talked and laughed long into the night.

Things didn’t get…sticky…until it came time to retire for the evening.

“I’ve put the two of you in the guest room,” Mary Margaret said turning on the hall light and gesturing forward.  “I hope that’s not a problem.  I’d planned to offer Killian the study if you two weren’t, well, at _that_ point in your relationship yet, but we’re in the process of painting it, and trust me; _no one_ would want to spend the night in there.”

Emma’s mouth went dry.  Why hadn’t she thought of the sleeping arrangements?

Killian cleared his throat, looking only marginally less uncomfortable than she felt.  “That will suffice quite nicely, Mrs. Nolan.  Thank you for your hospitality.”

After a round of muttered good nights, David and Mary Margaret disappeared into their own bedroom leaving Emma alone in the room she always used with the man she definitely was _not_ in a relationship with.

“Well, Swan,” he said, scratching behind his ear.  “This is awkward, aye?”

“Yeah,” she said with a decisive nod.  “You could say that again.  Sorry to put you in this position; I totally had no idea they’d do this.  I mean David is textbook protective big brother.  Him having no problem with his little sister sharing a bedroom with her ‘boyfriend’ just down the hall from where he sleeps with his wife?  Never would have seen that coming.”

Killian chuckled, grabbing the decorative pillow shams and tossing them to the floor.  “Your brother did take the opportunity while we were gathering our luggage to inquire as to my intentions where you are concerned.”

“And you told him.”

“They were honorable, of course.”

“He must have bought it,” Emma said, gathering up her t-shirt and pajama pants and looking _anywhere_ but at the bed.  “He’s more or less welcomed you with open arms.”

Killian was silent for long moments, and Emma looked up to find his eyes on her, serious expression in place.  “Swan, ruse or not, I spoke the truth.  My intentions _are_ honorable.  You’ve no need to feel awkward about this or any other situation; I’ll not attempt to take advantage of you.”

“Well…that’s good to hear,” Emma said, feeling rather off-balance by the aching sincerity in his tone.

“Aye, well,” he said, once again scratching his ear, “perhaps you’d best head to the bathroom and ready yourself for bed.  If you’ll do me the liberty to point me in the direction of a linen closet where I might find an extra blanket, I’ll prepare as well.”

“An extra blanket?” Emma asked, frown of confusion wrinkling her brow.  “Why would you need that?”

“Well, love,” he said with a quick grin. “If I’m to take the floor, I’d at least prefer a blanket and a pillow.”

“Take the floor?  You intend to sleep on the _floor_?”

“Of course,” he said with a small bow in her direction.  “I’m not bloody well going to force a lady to sleep on the floor while I indulge in the luxury of a bed.”

“So _now_ you’re going to be a gentleman?”

He leaned toward her, teasing smirk firmly in place.  “I believe in good form, my lady, and I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

She smiled at him and then eyed the cold, hard-wood floors in the Nolan’s guest bedroom.  “While I appreciate the gesture, Killian, there’s…well, there’s no reason for either of us to take the floor.  I mean, that’s a king-sized bed.  There’s plenty of room for both of us…and a nice big neutral area in the middle besides.  I…don’t mind if you don’t.”

His grin turned decidedly wicked.  “Do I mind sharing a bed with you?  That I most certainly do not, darling.”

She swatted at him as she headed to the bathroom to change.  “Don’t get any big ideas buddy.  All we’re doing in that bed is _sleeping_.  You stick to your side and I stick to mine.”

Eight-and-a-half hours later Emma woke to bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, the smell of coffee and frying bacon coming from the kitchen…and Killian’s warmth surrounding her like a blanket.

She stilled, trying to orient herself.  Her head lay cushioned on Killian’s chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.  Springy chest hair peeked from his v-necked sleep t-shirt and tickled her cheek, their arms and legs hopelessly entwined.

They lay squarely in the middle of the big bed, the covers settled snuggly over both of them.  It would seem that neither of them had followed her “you stick to your side of the bed and I stick to mine” rule.  Sometime through the night they’d obviously sought each other out, finding comfort and rest in each-other’s arms.

Emma didn’t even want to _begin_ to think about the implications of that.  The fact that it felt so completely _right_ to spend the night in his arms, that she’d just had the best night’s sleep she’d had in ages, scared the hell out of her.

Slowly, gently, Emma began to extricate herself, praying he didn’t wake up to find them like _this_.  He’d never let her live it down.  The innuendos would be never-ending.

Or maybe not.

It had been a touching gesture, him offering to sleep on the floor if it would make her more comfortable.  Maybe there really was a good and honorable heart beating in that ridiculously hairy chest of his. 

A sudden swell of tenderness coming over her, she looked down at his face, so peaceful and almost boyish in sleep.  Reaching up, she let herself cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the tiny scar under his eye.  Maybe she’d misjudged him.  Maybe there was more to Killian Jones than met the eye.

 

_Notes:_

_\--With regard to this portion of the story…I totally feel you, Emma!  There’s no way in any realm I’d be remotely able to function after that “practice kiss”—or the hand holding or cheek kiss for that matter.  Having Killian Jones even pretend to be head or heels for me would be distinctly hazardous to my health, lol._

_\--Up next:  While getting ready for the wedding, Emma has a conversation with Ruby while Killian hangs out with David.  Both get a shocking revelation when they learn what Mary Margaret has planned for the wedding reception._


	3. Chapter 3

The Wedding Date (pt. 3)

Emma peered into the brightly-lit oval vanity mirror, turning her head this way and that.  She nodded in satisfaction.  Earlier that morning, she’d gone with Regina and all the rest of the bridesmaids to  _Rapunzel’s Tower_ , the premiere hair salon in Misthaven. 

Regina had very strict requirements for her wedding party when it came to their appearance for the ceremony, insisting that her wedding photos would not be ruined by a sloppy updo or clownish makeup.  To ensure her bridesmaids lived up to expectation, she’d insisted they all have their hair styled by Rapunzel herself.  (Seriously, who named their kid Rapunzel?)

Emma had to say, the hair dresser had done a wonderful job.  Her loose bun with artfully curled flowing tendrils was both romantic and sophisticated.  The small tiara woven atop it all was the perfect finishing touch.  Combine that with her red, long-sleeved ball gown with the sweetheart neckline and Emma nearly felt like a princess about to attend her first ball.

After the hair appointments, the ladies had headed to the chapel, where a room in the basement had been set up for their particular use.  They’d quickly changed into their own dresses and then helped Regina into her wedding gown.  (Emma secretly thought it was a bit ridiculous that it took four women to get a bride into her dress, but what are you going to do?)

Now they all sat behind their own personal vanities applying make-up.  Taking up a brush, Emma swirled it across the delicate pink blush (the color entitled “middlemist rose”), and then absently swiped it across her cheeks.

She wondered idly what Killian was doing.  Would he feel awkward off by himself all morning while Emma and the others primped for Regina’s big day?

Not likely.  He and David were keeping each other company, and they seemed to have become best friends over night.  Emma felt a small twinge of regret as she thought about it.  When this was all over and she and Killian “broke up”….it was going to be more complicated than she thought.  Her brother was going to take the news hard.

 _So am I_ , her traitorous heart unhelpfully whispered.  Emma sighed as she snapped her blush closed and started rifling through her eyeshadow and eyeliner options.  The fact was…she was starting to genuinely  _like_  Killian.  The man she was spending the weekend with was warm, kind, witty, romantic.  Nothing like the pain in the ass that was constantly landing himself in her jail cell.

Maybe he was just a really good actor, but Emma didn’t think so.  She’d always read people well, and she got the distinct impression that this weekend she was seeing the  _real_  Killian Jones for the first time since she took office as Storybrooke’s sheriff a year and a half ago.

Maybe….maybe things didn’t have to just  _end_  when the weekend was over.  Maybe they could…

 _No!_  She was  _not_  going there.  She didn’t care how much her stomach had swooped when he’d sauntered into the kitchen that morning, brushed a kiss against her cheek and promptly laced their fingers as he sat beside her.  She didn’t care how much she’d genuinely enjoyed talking and laughing with him and David and Mary Margaret over breakfast.  She didn’t care how fast her heart started beating every time she looked over at him and caught that tiny wistful smile on his face as he looked right back at her.

She’d built the wall around her heart for a reason and she  _couldn’t_  let him scale it.  The inevitable heartbreak would destroy her. 

The bench dipped beside her, and she looked over to see Ruby Lucas, wide smile in place.  Emma grinned back; it was hard not to.  The wedding planner’s grin and sunny disposition was infectious.

“You look amazing, Emma!” she said, reaching up to arranged a stray curl. 

“Thanks,” Emma answered with a laugh.  “I ought to, as much time and effort as Regina made us all put in.  How’d you manage to get away from the ‘Evil Queen’, anyway?  She been running you ragged all day.”

Ruby shrugged and rolled her eyes dramatically.  “Who knows?  Somehow I managed to slip away while her back was turned.  She wants this wedding to be  _perfect_ , but the thing is, Robin’s so crazy in love with her, he’d probably be happy if she wore dirty sweats and they got married in a barn, just as long as they were husband and wife at the end of the day.  And that little Roland of his!  That kid’s so excited his daddy’s marrying ‘Mama ‘Gina’ he can hardly contain himself.”

Emma smiled wistfully.  What would it be like to have someone love her that much?  Was there even anyone who was capable of showering her with that much love?  Unbidden, an image of Killian flitted into her mind, but she ruthlessly shoved it aside.

“So…” Ruby said, sliding closer and giving Emma a sly smile, “What’s this I hear about you and a new boyfriend who’s hot as hell?”

Emma felt her face redden.  She shrugged.  “Not much to tell.  His name’s Killian Jones, we haven’t been dating all that long, and he’s my date to the wedding.”

Ruby gave her a knowing look, her head shaking from side to side.  “No way.  Not a chance!  You’re not getting off that easy.  I need details.  So spill!”

Emma shrugged again.  “I mean, he was a total pain in the ass when we first met, but then he started to grow on me.  We just, I don’t know, suddenly clicked, and right now things are  _good_.”

 

“I’m glad for you. Really.  You deserve to be happy.”  Ruby sighed in what Emma assumed was supposed to be ecstasy.  “You have no idea how good it is to see you so happy and in love and  _glowing_.”

“Ruby, I’m not…”

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it!” Ruby cut in.  “I’m a  _wedding planner_ , remember?  People in love are my specialty.  And you, Emma, are most definitely in love.  Wouldn’t surprise me if you two love-birds needed my services yourselves in a few months!”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Emma said, trying her hardest to quell the panic that flared up at the fact that the thought  _didn’t_  panic her.  She  _really_ needed to get it together before she saw Killian again, or she’d end up making a world class fool of herself.  He was her  _fake_  date.  She had to remember that.   _Fake_.

Ruby shrugged.  “Well whether wedding bells are chiming in the distance or not, it’s a good thing you really do have a date that you’re into tonight.”

“Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Well…” Ruby began, looking around furtively and then leaning in.  “Mary Margaret would probably murder me if she knew I was telling you this; she was afraid you’d run for the hills if you found out before the reception, but she’s got this plan for making Regina and Robin comfortable…”

Emma listened in growing horror as Ruby laid out Mary Margaret’s plan.  What had she gotten herself into?  If this evening didn’t end in total disaster it would be a miracle.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian took his seat on the “bride’s side” of the aisle and watched as the photographer set up her camera and prepared for pictures of the wedding party.  The wedding chapel was apparently in high demand, so it had been decided that all the wedding photographs that did not involve the bride and the groom together (Mary Margaret would have probably fainted at the thought of the groom seeing the bride before the wedding) would be taken before the actual ceremony so that they could vacate the premises in time for the next wedding of the day—apparently something mermaid themed for a couple named Ariel and Eric.

As the photographer artfully arranged Robin Locksley and his groomsmen, Killian let his mind wander back to this morning. 

He’d always been an early riser, and this morning was no exception.  He’d woken with the sun to find Emma Swan in his arms, her soft, vanilla and cinnamon scented hair tickling his nose, her soft head pillowed on his chest, her arms surrounding him.

It had been heaven; there was no denying it.

It had taken him all of three seconds to decide to savor the sensation, the way his heart just  _warmed_  at her touch, for as long as it lasted.  He had no doubt that once she woke there would be hell to pay.  No doubt she’d lecture him up one side and down the other when she learned he’d held her through the night rather than sticking to her demands that they remain strictly separated on their own sides of the bed.

 

But really, he was no more to blame than she.  He hadn’t  _consciously_  sought her out.  They’d both fallen asleep on their sides of the bed, but when he woke, they were smack dab in the middle; both of them must have moved to come together in such a way.

Emma lay with a slight smile on her lips as she slept; she stirred, and then burrowed deeper into him.  Killian smiled, feeling an almost irresistible desire to kiss the top of her head, to smooth her wild, riotous hair, to whisper his feelings to her.

But he knew that wouldn’t do, so he contented himself with merely laying still, closing his eyes and savoring the moment, as warm and comforting as a shot of rum.

She stirred again, this time jerking as she fully came awake and became aware of their current position.  Killian feigned sleep, wanting to put off the inevitable explosion as long as possible.  He’d no doubt it was coming at any moment.

But it didn’t.

Killian felt her push herself up slowly, and then remain still. For long moments she seemed frozen like that, and then Killian felt her gently, tentatively cup his cheek, her thumb caressing his scar.

His heart turned over at the tender, intimate gesture.  He wanted to open his eyes, to smile at her, to tangle his hand in her hair and bring her lips down to his for a slow, deep good-morning kiss, but he knew that was a recipe for disaster.  Emma may let her walls down when she believed he slept, but if she knew he was aware…she’d throw those walls up, taller and stronger than ever. 

So he continued to feign sleep until she carefully climbed from the bed, gathered clothes for the day and headed for the shower.  When the door had closed behind her, he reached up and reverently cupped the cheek she’d so recently caressed.

With every passing moment he was falling harder and harder for this woman.  She was going to be the death of him.

“So, how ya holding up?” David Nolan asked as he slid into the pew beside Killian.

Killian looked over at Emma’s brother and grinned.  “It’s not my wedding, mate.”

“True,” David answered, “but it’s gotta be awkward coming to a wedding with your girlfriend, not knowing anyone but her, and then being left on your own while she goes off and does her bridesmaid duties.”

Killian shrugged.  “I know you, and I’ll see my lass again after the ceremony.  My current state is a small price to pay to have Emma Swan on my arm tonight, although it did seem the ladies left extraordinarily early to prepare for the big event.”

David laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Why women need three hours to get themselves ready for a formal affair is beyond me.”

“Particularly ladies as naturally lovely as ours.”

“You’ve got that right.”

The groomsmen scattered and Robin was summarily whisked away, and then the bride and her bridesmaids arrived.  Killian sucked in a deep breath as Emma came into view.  Emma dressed in her informal jeans and red leather jacket was beautiful, but Emma dressed formally in a ball gown was a vision from heaven itself.  To say she cut quite the figure in that dress was an understatement of mammoth proportions.

She made him want to spout poetry.  She  _was_  poetry come to life.

David’s chuckle brought him back to earth.  “Like what you see, Jones?”

Killian grinned.  “Dave, your sister puts even the stars to shame.”

Emma’s brother was quiet for so long that Killian finally tore his eyes from his “girlfriend” to find David giving him a shrewd, assessing look.

“What?”

“It’s not real, is it?” David asked with a knowing grin.  “You and Emma.  You two aren’t really together, are you?”

“How did you know?” Killian blurted out, too shocked to even try to deny it.

David laughed.  “Killian, I’ve known my sister for a  _long_  time, and she might have a nearly supernatural ability to spot a lie, but that definitely does _not_  extend to an ability to convincingly lie herself.  Quite frankly, she’s trying  _way_  too hard.  And then there’s the little issue of her being surprised and startled every time you even casually show her affection.  Emma may not be the most demonstrable person in the world, but she’s never before had that deer-in-the-headlights look when one of her boyfriends simply held her hand.”

Killian felt the pink staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears.  Absently he reached up and scratched at the back of his ear.  “Aye, well,” he said, “it was all rather sudden.  We hadn’t the time to properly plan and…acclimate ourselves to our ‘relationship’ before we arrived yesterday.”

David shook his head, chuckling under his breath.  “Well, she certainly went to elaborate lengths to make us think you guys were dating, but the question is why?”

How to answer that question without offending David or Mary Margaret?  “Well,” Killian said slowly, picking his words carefully, “Emma has become rather…weary of your wife’s attempts to find her a man.  She loves Mary Margaret, but…well…she just believed her visit this weekend would be more…enjoyable for all…if your wife didn’t feel she needed to play matchmaker.”

“That was a diplomatic way to put it,” David said.  Killian could hear the amusement in the other man’s voice.  “I love my wife with every beat of my heart, but I know exactly how she can be sometimes.  She means well; she just wants Emma to be as happy as we are, but she does have a tendency to come on a little too strong sometimes.”

Killian looked over at him and grinned.  “Just so.  Emma  _does_  realize your wife’s motives are pure; she merely wished to have a free weekend, so to speak.”

“I kind of suspected it was something like that,” David said.

 Silence fell for a moment, and Killian turned back toward the ladies.  The photographer flitted back and forth trying to arrange them  _just so_.  Emma caught Killian’s eye and gave him a quick grin before the photographer scolded her for her lack of attention.  She shrugged slightly, rolled her eyes dramatically at him, and then turned back toward the far-from-amused woman.

“You know, Killian,” David said, bringing Killian’s attention back to him.  “Emma’s not the only one in the family who can read people.”

“Aye?” Killian said absently.

“Aye,” David answered with a decisive nod.  “I noticed that you and my sister  _aren’t_ in a romantic relationship, but do you know what else I noticed?”

 

He went on without waiting for an answer.  “I also noticed that you desperately wish the two of you  _were_  in one.”

Killian shot startled eyes in David’s direction.  “I was that obvious was I?”

David laughed.  “Only to someone who was looking.  It’s in the way you look at her; the way you reverently touch her.  You, my friend, are a man in love.”

Killian let out a long slow breath, and turned to look at the object of his affections once more.  “Aye.  She’s captivated me since the moment I first saw her.  Mate, your sister is bloody brilliant, amazing, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because,” Killian said, once more looking at David, “I’d hoped she’d one day feel as I do, but she’s made it quite clear that that will not be the case.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” David said slowly.  “Just as I’ve seen your feelings for her, I’d swear she’s got some for you too.  No way she reacts that strongly to your touch if she felt nothing.”

Killian’s heart began to race.  Was it possible? 

“My advice for what it’s worth?” David said.  “Fight for her.  She’s had some stunningly bad relationships, and it’s made her gun shy about letting anyone else in.  Be patient with her; show her you mean to stick around.  Eventually she’ll let her guard down and explore the feelings brewing between you two.”

Killian smiled tenderly, once more looking up at Emma.  “Aye.  I’m in it for the long haul.  I’ll wait for her as long as it takes.”

“Good,” David said.  “Anyway, I had another reason for coming to talk to you.  Given your current…lack of relationship, I thought I’d best warn you what my wife has planned for the reception.”

“This doesn’t sound good, mate.”

David laughed.  “Oh, I don’t know.  You might find it  _extremely_  good, but it’s best you be prepared.  You see, Regina was being difficult about all the reception customs, you know, kissing when people clink their classes, having a first dance, feeding each other cake, the whole nine yards.  The only way Mary Margaret got her to agree to it all was to forge a compromise.”

“And that compromise might be?”

“Regina only agreed to the traditions as long as she and Robin weren’t singled out.  The long and short of it is, everything the newlyweds do, the bridal party and their respective dates have to do as well.  Given how fond Ruby is of bringing about public displays of affection…I think you and I had best be ready to engage in multiple make-out sessions with our respective bridesmaids.”

Killian closed his eyes, remembering his one and only almost-kiss with Emma.  A slow smile curved his lips.  “I do believe this is a task I’m well up to mate.”

David slapped him on the back good-naturedly.  “Thought you might be.  Anyway, looks like the photo shoot is coming to an end.  I’m going to go see if I can intercept my wife before the ceremony starts.  Be back in a minute.”

Killian gave his head a quick shake as Emma’s brother walked away.  That was a loaded conversation if he’d ever had one.  He hardly knew how to take it all in.  Was David right?  Did Emma harbor feelings for him?  Would it truly be wise to pursue her?  Would it lead to bliss…or to heartbreak?

A nearly forgotten memory came to mind; a conversation he’d had with his older brother long, long ago.  “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets, little brother.”

 _Quite so_.

Killian nodded once in determination.  She may shoot him down mercilessly; she may break his heart into tiny pieces, but it didn’t matter.  He would fight for her, fight to win her heart, until she definitively let him know his feelings were unrequited. 

Emma Swan was worth the risk.

_Notes:_

_\--Given how totally resistant to Killian Emma seemed at the beginning, I thought it was important to add another scene to show how much her feelings have begun to change—thereby making their eventual getting together (sorry for the spoiler, but you had to know that was coming, right? lol.) more believable.  And as long as I was giving Emma a scene with Ruby, I couldn’t resist a Captain Charming scene as well.  (That also gave me a chance to let you all knew exactly what it is that Mary Margaret’s up to.)_

_\--Up next: The reception.  Will Killian succeed in winning Emma’s heart because she wants him?  How can Emma possibly resist when she’s already more than half fallen for him already…particularly when he’s set out to seriously woo her?_


	4. Chapter 4

The Wedding Date—pt. 4

 

The wedding was beautiful, idyllic, like a fairy tale.  Regina may have been a bundle of nerves until the very moment before it all began, but as soon as the strains of Pachelbel’s Canon began, signaling the procession of the bridesmaids, a preternatural calm seemed to descend on her. 

 

Most people watch the bride as she walks down the aisle during a wedding, but Emma liked to watch the groom.  She liked to catch his expression as his bride came toward him.  The aching love, awe and incredible joy that transformed Robin’s face the moment Regina came into view in her elegant, lacy ball gown and filmy veil was everything a bride could wish for. 

 

Emma didn’t cry at these kinds of things, but she felt the tears gather as her sister-in-law’s sister and her true love vowed to love, honor and cherish each other forever.  As Robin spoke of second chances at love, finding his soul mate and feeling _complete_ at long last after years of being broken, Emma glanced out at the audience, her gaze landing on her “date”.  Her cheeks heated as she found he was looking right back at her, a look on his face that was eerily similar to the look the groom was giving to the bride.  Maybe it was the romantic, almost sappy atmosphere of the wedding, but for just one split second, Emma let herself dream that it was real; that Killian was _really_ looking at her like that—not because she was his “date”, but because he truly wanted her.

 

When Regina and Robin were pronounced man and wife, the groom kissed his bride with so much spirit and gusto that he elicited a wolf whistle from Ruby.  And then suddenly the wedding was over and the bridal party was spirited off to the reception venue where they formed a receiving line and greeted all the well-wishers.

 

With the ceremony over, Emma’s nerves came back to the fore as Ruby’s heads-up about Mary Margaret’s reception plans flitted through her mind.  How the hell was she going to make it through this evening?  It would have been bad enough at the beginning of the weekend, but now…when her feelings had started to change toward Killian?  When she’d begun to _wish_ for something more despite how convinced she was it would end in heartbreak?  Kissing him, dancing with him, acting _in love_ with him was going to break her.

 

“You’re stunning, Swan.”

 

Emma gasped as she looked up into Killian’s startling blue eyes.  She’d more or less gone on auto pilot as wedding attendees made their way through the receiving line; so much so that she hadn’t even realized he was heading her way until he was right before her.

 

“Th…thanks,” she said, hating herself for the startled, breathlessness of her voice.  “You look…”

 

He chuckled, raising one eyebrow playfully.  “I know.”

 

Emma smiled in spite of herself, enjoying the gentle flirting.  

 

“Your beauty puts the bride to shame, Swan; bad form, that.”  Killian took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss against her knuckles.  The touch sent liquid fire coursing through her veins, and she suddenly felt as breathless as if she’d just run a marathon.  How was a woman to keep her head under such a romantic onslaught?

This was bad.  This was _really_ bad.  She was in over her head and she didn’t know what to do. 

 

So she did what she did best.  She ran, metaphorically speaking, at least.  Snatching her hand back, she averted her eyes, looking anywhere but at the man before her.  She prayed fervently that he’d take the hint and head off to his place at the head table.

 

“Swan?  Is something the matter?”

 

No such luck.  Of course he wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

 

Emma pasted on a smile and looked back into his concerned blue eyes.  “Not at all.  Everything’s just fine.”

 

Her voice sounded brittle and overly bright even to her own ears.  Killian’s brow furrowed as he peered at her for long moments.  Finally, he took her elbow and nodded his head to the doors that led to the hallway.  “Come Swan.  I think we need to talk.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Killian,” she said even as she moved in the direction he indicated.  “I can’t just _leave_ the receiving line.”

 

“Come on Emma,” he coaxed.  “They’ll do quite well without you for a few minutes; it’s the bride and groom they truly wish to greet.”

 

That was true enough, and Emma was beginning to feel like she needed air; the walls of that stupid ballroom were starting to close in.

 

When he’d steered them to a deserted hallway and seated her on a sofa that was leaning against the wall, Killian took her hand once more.  “Would you care to tell me what’s truly bothering you, love, because you were anything but fine in there.”

 

She looked away, embarrassment, annoyance, frustration, hopelessness overtaking her.  Finally she looked back at him.  “I’m just….I’m just sorry I roped you into this, okay?  I mean you’ve been great, playing along and everything, but…well, you ought to know, Mary Margaret has plans, and things are probably going to get really uncomfortable.  I’m just…sorry.”

 

She couldn’t meet his eyes; couldn’t look at him as she told him what her sister-in-law had planned, couldn’t even find the words to tell him.  Instead, she looked down, studied the swirling pattern of the carpeting.

 

A moment later, she felt the gentle pressure of his finger under her chin, urging her head up, forcing her to look at him.  What she saw in his eyes was compassion, understanding, and…something more, something tender.

 

“Emma, you’ve no need to fret.  Your brother told me all about your sister-in-law’s plots for the evening.”

 

“So…so you know she’s going to expect us to kiss and dance and…whatever else she’ll come up with?  And you don’t have a problem with it?”

 

He chuckled.  “Do I have a problem with kissing the most beautiful woman in the ballroom?  Hardly, darling.”  He sobered.  “But I was quite serious last night, Swan.  I have no wish to make you uncomfortable.  Just because your sister-in-law makes demands doesn’t mean we must follow them.  If you’d prefer, I’ve a plan of my own to get around _her_ plans.”

 

“Really?  What’s that?”

 

“Just follow my lead.  I’ll be sure to steer us away from dangerous waters.”

 

Emma, squeezed his hand, grateful beyond measure that he seemed to get her; to just _understand_ what she needed without her even having to mention it.  “Thank you.  It’s…I mean, it’s nothing against you, it’s just, being paraded up in front of the whole world it feels like, being on display.  I just…well, thank you.”

 

“Not a problem, Swan,” he said, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up.  “And for the record you didn’t rope me into this.  I agreed quite willingly and I’m thoroughly enjoying my weekend with you.”

 

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

 

Dinner actually went pretty well.  She, Killian and the rest of the wedding party sat at a long banquet table facing outward toward the rest of the wedding guests.  Killian proved to be an engaging dinner partner, talking, laughing, putting her at ease.

 

Well, putting her at ease for the most part.  There was that moment at the very beginning when he steered her toward her assigned chair.  Pulling it out, he seated her, his hand brushing her shoulder as he pushed her in.  The feelings _that_ evoked in her could hardly be described as _ease_.  Electricity, maybe.  Butterflies, definitely.  Terrifyingly dangerous territory, without any doubt.

 

The first time Ruby started tapping her water glass was just before the entrée was served.  While couples all around them grinned good-naturedly and leaned in for a kiss, Emma shot Killian a furtive, alarmed look.

 

“Calm down, Swan.  Just follow my lead,” he murmured, and then raised his hand before her.  She snorted a quick laugh as she caught his meaning.  Raising her own hand, she gave him a resounding high-five.

 

“Mary Margaret’s going to kill us,” she said, the laughter evident in her voice.  “And if she doesn’t, Regina will.”

 

And so it went.  Every time the wedding guests began tapping their water glasses, Killian gave her a mischievous glance and improvised another way to get around the kissing requirement.  Fist bumps, hand-shakes, kisses blown in her direction, he seemed endlessly resourceful.

 

But, of course, it couldn’t last.  Eventually Ruby caught on to their ruse and rushed over to their side of the table. 

 

“Uh, uh guys!” she said, her finger wagging before her.  “No way.  That’s not how this works; we need kisses.  Hot, steamy kisses.”

 

“Ruby, I’m not making out with my boyfriend in front of an entire ballroom full of people,” Emma hissed.

 

“Sorry, those are the rules.  I didn’t make ‘em.  I just enforce ‘em,” Ruby said in a sing-song voice.  “This is a wedding after all.”

 

“It’s not _my_ wedding,” Emma grumbled under her breath as the perky wedding planner headed back to her own table.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ruby called over her shoulder.  “Rules were made to be followed.  As a _sheriff_ , I would have thought you’d know that better than anyone.”

 

It came as no surprise to Emma when Ruby started vociferously tapping her glass the moment she’d seated herself once more.  “No worries, Swan,” Killian said.  “A sheriff may be averse to breaking the rules, but an inveterate committer of misdemeanors has no such compunction.”

 

But as Killian prepared to defy the “rules of weddings” in whatever creative new way he’d come up with now, Emma made the mistake of looking into his eyes, so blue, so tender, so _loving._  

 

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that it was all a ruse.  It didn’t matter that they were in a room full of people.  It didn’t matter that they were basically being forced into this.  Suddenly, all that mattered was that he was here with her and she was grateful beyond measure for all his efforts to make her comfortable.   All that mattered was that she wanted this; wanted him.

 

Ignoring her better judgement, she grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and hauled him into her.  If their one, almost kiss in the car had set every cell in her body to tingling this one, _the real thing_ , positively set her on fire.  Everything fell away, everything but them, the desperate way their mouths meshed, the way she ran her hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him yet closer, the way he stiffened for half a second before diving in with both feet, meeting her kiss for kiss, holding her close.

 

Emma was beyond reason, beyond caring.  This might be the one and only time she was ever able to kiss Killian Jones, and she was going to make it count.

 

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

 

“Alright folks!  Time for the bride and groom’s first dance,” came the enthusiastic voice of the Master of Ceremonies, a man named Leroy.  “Well…the bridal _party’s_ first dance that is.”

 

Killian got to his feet and offered his hand to Emma.  “Shall we Swan?”

 

She gave him a quick, shy smile as she took his hand and let him lead her to the makeshift dance floor.   This wedding had been nothing like he’d expected when Emma picked him up in her little yellow bug the day before, but he had no complaints.  Truth be told, this weekend had been earth-shaking.

 

When Emma had actually followed the “wedding rules” and kissed him…well, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it had changed his life.  It was indescribable, bliss like he’d never experienced.  It was as though a piece of himself he’d never realized was missing suddenly clicked into place, and he knew he’d never be the same again.

 

After long moments, she’d finally pulled back, but only far enough to rest her forehead against his.  He’d wanted to say something profound, elegant, worthy of expressing the revolution going on in his heart, but all that came out was a breathless “That was…”

 

She’d chuckled.  “Yeah.”

 

It was only after they’d pulled apart and gone back to their dinner that they realized they’d created a spectacle that had every eye in the room on them.  Emma’d blushed as red as her lovely gown when Ruby whistled suggestively and the diminutive MC suggested they get a room.  While Killian sympathized with her embarrassment, he couldn’t find it in him to regret the moment.  Surely if a woman kissed a man like _that_ there must be some feelings involved.  Dare he hope the evening would end with happiness rather than heartbreak?

 

The first official reception “event” was the cutting of the wedding cake.  The new Mr. And Mrs. Locksley had a large, lavishly decorated cake, but each of the other members of the wedding party had a small cake of their own, each with their own distinctive flavor.  He and Emma were assigned to the devil’s food cake.

 

“Quite appropriate, love,” he quipped, teasing sparkle in his eye, “given my devilishly handsome appearance.”

 

She’d laughed, and slapped his shoulder playfully, the vague unease of the moment sliding from her face, as he’d hoped it would.  “Somebody’s got a high opinion of himself.”

 

He shrugged.  “When _somebody’s_ a dashing rapscallion, it comes with the territory.”

 

Each of the couples grabbed their knives and cut their cakes.  Killian took up a small piece and popped it in Emma’s waiting mouth, smearing a bit of red frosting on the corner of her mouth in the process.  Staying focused on her green eyes, he swiped it off with one finger, which he then brought quite deliberately to his own mouth.  There was no mistaking Emma’s quick, indrawn breath.

 

When it was her turn to feed him, she returned the favor going a step further.  Rather than using her finger, she brought her lips to his face and kissed the smeared icing off.  Killian doubted he’d ever experienced something so sensual—or anything that stirred him more.  She was a marvel, his Swan, and he’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to make their fake relationship real.  He didn’t just want her for a weekend; he wanted her forever.

 

Killian had been to enough weddings to know the bride ordinarily tossed her bouquet, that the groom ordinarily removed her garter and tossed that as well, but Regina had roundly put her foot down to both traditions.  She’d gone to a lot of trouble to find the perfect bridal bouquet and she was going to keep it, thank you very much.  As to the garter situation, she didn’t care how many other couples might go along with it, she was _not_ being undressed by her husband in a room full of people (including her new stepson)—even if that undressing only went as far as a small garter.  Any undressing going on would take place in the privacy of the bridal suite later that night.

 

And so, now with the first dance, they’d reached the final formal element of the reception.  As the band (a local group known as “The Merry Men”) struck up the opening bars of Bryan Adams’ “(Everything I do) I do it for you”, Killian pulled Emma into the circle of his arms, relishing the feel of her arms around his neck.

 

They swayed to the music in silence for some time, Killian smiling gently down at her.  “Are you happy, Emma?” he asked softly.  “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

 

“Yeah,” she answered, unconsciously pulling him closer.  “It’s been a surprisingly good weekend.  Thanks for everything you’ve done.  I couldn’t have asked for a better fake boyfriend.”

 

Killian couldn’t help the slight wince that crossed his face at her reminder, once again of the nature of their “relationship”, but he masked it quickly, determined to enjoy the moment, enjoy holding her close, regardless of what might come in the future.

 

As the song built into a crescendo, Killian heard the tinkling sound of glasses once again being clinked, his heart racing at the thought of sharing another kiss with the woman in his arms.  He quirked an eyebrow in question and she nodded slightly as an attractive flush covered her lovely cheeks.  Slowly, Killian lowered his head, closed his eyes and captured her lips.  This kiss was different, slower, gentler than their first during dinner.  Killian poured his heart into the kiss, telling her without words what she meant to him, how much he cared for her.

 

The song was coming to a close when Killian finally broke the kiss and pulled back.  It took Emma several heartbeats to open her eyes, and Killian’s heart turned over at the blissful smile on her thoroughly kissed lips. 

 

“What are we doing, Killian?” she finally asked, her voice so quiet he had to lean in to hear it. 

 

“Dancing,” he said trying for levity, even as his heart pounded at her question.

 

She gave him a quick, exasperated look.  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

 

He blew out a long breath and then nodded.  “Aye.  Perhaps we’d best talk about this?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, stepping out of the circle of his arms, taking his hand and leading him to a balcony off the ballroom.   “I think we should.”

 

She started pacing as soon as they were away from prying eyes.  “I can’t _do_ this, Killian.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this!  I wasn’t supposed to have feelings….or whatever this is.  This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.  I don’t know what to do with this.  I _can’t_ get my heart broken again!”

 

He rushed to her and enveloped her in a hug, needing to comfort, needing to protect even more than he needed their relationship to become real.  “Easy, Swan.”

 

David had warned him that she’d been hurt in past relationships, but he had no idea the wounds ran so deep.  Killian had a sudden desire to find the miserable wretch who had broken her heart so definitively and plant his fist in the poor-excuse-for-a-man’s face.

 

After a moment, Emma pulled away, turning her head, refusing to meet his eyes.  “Sorry.  I…know this all isn’t real, and I know you’re just playing a part, and I’m probably making this whole thing about ten times more awkward than it has to be.”

 

He stopped her with a finger to her lips.  “Emma, how many times must I tell you I’m here because I _want_ to be?  You’ve nothing to apologize for, and in fact….I’ve a bit of a confession to make, myself.”

 

She tilted her head, giving him a questioning look.

 

“You see, Swan,” he began, glancing aside and scratching at his ear, “I’m not nearly as much of a criminal as I might seem to be.  From the moment you came to town I wanted to know you, wanted to get your attention.  Thus my bouts of law breaking which were guaranteed to catch the sheriff’s attention.”

 

Her eyebrows shot up.  “You…what?  Killian’s that’s crazy.”

 

He chuckled shaking his head in self-deprecation.  “Aye, love.  Being smitten with a fascinating woman can turn the sanest of men to craziness.”

 

She laughed.  “So, you’re telling me everything you did…it was all because you were interested in me?”

 

“Guilty as charged.”

 

“Well that’s…something I didn’t see coming,” she said.  “So you agreed to be my ‘boyfriend’ this weekend even though you had feelings for me, even with all my insistence that it was fake?”

 

He looked deep into her eyes as he answered.  “Aye.  I had hopes that you might come to know the _real_ me, that you might develop feelings as well.  Might I hope my wishes weren’t entirely in vain?”

 

She held his eyes for long moments, and then she turned away, staring out at the carefully manicured garden below.  “After those kisses…I think you know the answer, but…I can’t.  I just can’t get my heart broken again.  I don’t think it would ever mend again.”

 

Killian joined her at the railing and turned her gently toward him.  “Emma, I can’t see the future.  I don’t know what will be tomorrow or a year from now or ten years from now.  What I do know, what I’m absolutely certain of, is that I’m in this for the long haul.  If there’s one thing this weekend has shown me, it’s that you’re infinitely worth fighting for.  I wish to win your heart, but one thing I can assure you: whether I succeed or not, my heart is in your hand, and I never plan to take it back again.”

 

He saw the tears pool in her eyes, and  he caught the first to fall with his thumb.  Then, taking both her hands, he laced their fingers.  “Come on Swan.  Take a leap of faith.  You’ve no need to fear; I’ll catch you.”

 

She searched his face for another moment, and then she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently once more.  “Okay.”

 

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

 

Emma never told her sister-in-law the truth about the “boyfriend” she brought to Regina’s wedding.  There was never a need.  By the time the wedding reception was at an end, there was no ruse left.  Her relationship with Killian was every bit as real as they’d been telling David and Mary Margaret from the start.

 

They decided to take it slow, both Emma and Killian realizing they had something real, and deep and true, something they wanted to get _right_.  Long talks turned to even longer kisses.  “I’m captivated by you” turned into “I love you”, and in due course, Killian succeeded in winning Emma’s heart every bit as much as she’d won his.

 

Eighteen months later there was another wedding in Misthaven, and as Emma walked down the aisle on her brother’s arm, she’d swear no bride had ever seen such a look of love and utter adoration on her groom’s face as she saw on Killian’s.

 

Some might say making up a fake boyfriend to take to a wedding back home is crazy, but Emma thought it might very well be the best (and sanest) idea of her life.

 

_Notes:_

_\--Alright, so there it is; the conclusion of The Wedding Date!  This chapter was kind of long (and it fought with me every step of the way), but from everything that’s come out about this Sunday’s episode, it looks like it’s going to be really good—but really angsty.  I figured you might need a bit longer installment of fluff to prepare yourself._

_\--So, Killian’s creative ways to_ not _kiss Emma when people tapped on their glasses at the reception….yeah, that kind of came from real life.  I went to a wedding a few months back where that’s exactly what the newlyweds did.  It was pretty amusing._

_\--I chose “(Everything I do) I Do it For You” as Robin and Regina’s first dance song for a couple of reasons.  1.  The song was on the soundtrack to the movie “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves”, which I thought made it particularly appropriate for the OQ wedding.  2. It is such a perfect song for CS!_


	5. Chapter 5

The Wedding Date—Deleted scene

_A/N: That last episode was brutal, so I thought we could all use a special, mid-week edition of fluff. This is a kind of “deleted scene” to The Wedding Date.  It takes place just after the wedding reception (but before the little epilogue where I basically told you what happened with Emma and Killian post-OQ wedding)._

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

It was nearing midnight by the time they all arrived back at the Nolan’s cottage. It had been a _long_ and busy day, and Emma’s feet were swearing fluently at her after having spent a good fifteen hours trapped within the most uncomfortable heels in the known universe, but Emma wouldn’t have traded this day for the world.

As they walked in the door and headed toward the kitchen for a late night cocoa (with cinnamon, of course), Emma rested her head against Killian’s shoulder. She smiled as she felt him squeeze their entwined hands, as he turned his head to the side and brushed a kiss against the top of her head.  It might sound ridiculously cheesy to say, but this might just have been the best day of her life.

Things were always fun and exciting at the start of a new relationship, but this…with Killian…things were _different_.  She could feel it.  This new relationship had the feel of forever about it, and Emma was amazed at how far from afraid she was at the thought.

Killian held the kitchen chair for her as they reached the table, and then promptly seated himself, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her toward himself. She leaned against him, placing one hand against his chest, just above his steadily beating heart.

“Are you hungry?” Mary Margaret asked, rummaging through cabinets. “Wouldn’t take a moment to heat something up to go with the cocoa.”

“None for me, Mrs. Nolan,” Killian said. “I’d wager I couldn’t eat another morsel.”

Mary Margaret turned around and shook her head at Killian with an indulgent smile. “That’s way too much formality, Killian!  You’re Emma’s boyfriend; you’re practically family.  Call me Mary Margaret.”

Emma noted the pleased flush that crept over Killian’s face at her sister-in-law’s words, and it suddenly occurred to her that she knew next to nothing about Killian’s family. She remembered him mentioning a brother who still lived back in England, but she didn’t think he’d mentioned anyone else.  There was a certain loneliness she saw within him that spoke to her and her own past.  She couldn’t wait to spend the next fifty years or so helping him to heal his brokenness just as he did for her.

David chuckled. “Might as well put something together, honey,” he said.  “I’m good too, but I know how hungry you always get this time of night.”

Mary Margaret smiled indulgently at her husband. “You know me way too well.  The problem, though, is that I can’t decide what I _want_.  Am I more in an ice cream mood or more in a pickle mood?”

“Might as well go with both. You know you’ll want it all before the night’s over.”

The Nolan’s shared a quick, secret smile before Mary Margaret turned toward the freezer, and David sat at the table and shot a knowing look at Emma and Killian.

“Looks like you two had a good evening,” he said, “I thought I was going to have to challenge Killian to a duel to get him to let me dance with my little sis.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to hold on to her, mate?” Killian asked. “A man gets a woman as bloody perfect as your sister, he never wants to part with her.”

A pleasant thrill ran through Emma at his words. How had she never heard the wonder and sincerity beneath Killian’s ridiculously romantic declarations before?  She’d always assumed it was just for show—or just to get under her skin—but after his revelation on the balcony, she knew he’d been doing no less than baring his heart to her.

“At the risk of sounding sappy,” David answered, “I’m glad things are working out so well between the two of you. You’re a good man, Killian, and you have no idea how grateful I am that Emma found someone who makes her as happy as you obviously do.”

“As it turns out,” Killian said with a slight smile, “I got a good piece of advice not long ago from someone I consider a true mate. I decided to follow his advice…and my heart...and now, having Emma with me, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

Emma shot a suspicious glance between her brother and her boyfriend. There was something else going on here, something gliding just below the surface.  As the two most important men in her life continued to grin at each other, she settled back on Killian’s shoulder.  Maybe she’d try to figure it all out later.  For right now she was too tired and too happy to care.

“Here we go!” Mary Margaret said, taking her seat beside David, and plopping an entire half-gallon of Rocky Road and a jar of pickles down before her. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

Emma laughed. “I think we’re good.”

Mary Margaret shrugged, and dug in with gusto. “I hope the guest room’s working out for you and Killian, Emma,” she said around a bite.  “It’ll probably be a few weeks more before the study’s really inhabitable again.  We’ve got a carpenter coming in on Friday, and then our interior decorator will be here the following week.  Remodeling’s a big job.  Good thing we started now, before...”

It took Emma a few moments to catch up to her sister-in-law. The moment Mary Margaret started talking about Emma and Killian and the guest bedroom, her heartrate had picked up, and her mind had gone off on a haze of crimson dreams.  She and Killian had already decided to take things slow, so she knew neither of them were ready for the kind of activities sharing a bedroom implied, but…well, maybe tonight they could start out in each other’s arms.  If it had felt so _right_ last night, before they’d even confessed their feelings, there was no doubt it would be utter bliss tonight.

Emma chanced a look at Killian, and nearly melted on the spot at the look in his eyes. He understood.  He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he couldn’t agree more.  It was amazing this connection between them; the way they could just _read_ each other like open books.  This knowledge, this awareness, this comfort and happiness…maybe that’s what was meant by true love.

Gradually, Emma became aware that Mary Margaret had fallen silent, and suddenly it occurred to her that there was something very odd about what she’d just said. “Wait…why _are_ you remodeling the study?  You guys just redid it like a year ago.  And, it’s a good thing you started it before _what_?”

David and Mary Margaret shared a quick glance, linked hands, and then turned back toward Emma and Killian. “Well,” Mary Margaret said.  “We needed to remodel it before the newest member of the Nolan family arrives.”

Mary Margaret placed a protective hand on her abdomen, and David piped up. “Turns out, we’re expecting a baby in about six months.”

Emma squealed and jumped up from her chair. She wrapped first her brother and then her sister-in-law in an excited hug.  “A baby!  Congratulations!  I know how much you both were hoping for one!  Is it a boy or a girl?  How are you feeling?  Is there anything I can do to help?”

Mary Margaret laughed, hugging Emma tighter and then letting go. “It’s too early to know the gender.  I’m feeling pretty good right now; just finished the first trimester and the morning sickness seems to be much better.  And there’s not much to help with right now, but once the baby’s born, I’m sure I’ll appreciate all the help I can get from ‘Aunt Emma’.”

_Aunt Emma!_ Emma’s smile widened as she took her seat once more.  She was going to be the best aunt a kid could hope for!

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

An hour later Emma lay within the circle of Killian’s arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He absently rubbed his hand across her back in a tender caress.  “Are you happy Emma?” he asked gently.  “Truly happy?”

She captured his lips in a long slow kiss. “Yeah.  As happy as I’ve ever been.  Thanks for scaling my walls and, you know, never giving up on me.”

He cupped her head in one gentle hand, and brought her back for another kiss. “For you, Swan, I’d have gone to the end of the world or time.  You’re more than worth it.”

 

_Notes:_

_\--I hope you enjoyed your “emergency extra dose of fluff”. In case you were wondering, I knew Mary Margaret was pregnant from the beginning of this story, and I did want to bring it up in the story, but it just never quite seemed to fit.  I thought about  having her and David reveal it during chapter two when she was explaining about putting Emma and Killian in the same room.  She was going to explain exactly_ why _the study wasn’t available to be used for a second guest room. That, however, would have taken away from the flow of that scene—where the focus was on the awkwardness Emma and Killian were feeling about sharing a room under the circumstances.  Likewise, I was going to have something in chapter 4 about Emma noticing MM not drinking wine/champagne/mixed drinks at the reception and have that be the moment MM shared her news, but that didn’t quite work out either.  It all worked out, though, I guess._ Not _revealing it in the main story gave me a chance to write some post-5x8 recovery fluff!_


End file.
